


Three Best Christmases in Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's finally good life

by SecretWonderland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: "Dog-Father", Christmas Fluff, Christmas traditions, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Harry's First Chsitmas, James and Lily loved their son, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Multi, Narcissa is a fun wine mom, Redeemed Lucius Malfoy, Sirius Black Lives, Slytherin friends, so is Sirius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretWonderland/pseuds/SecretWonderland
Summary: No one remembers that Harry's best Christmas was his first one, the one where his mum nearly killed his dad over an invisibility cloak, but everyone pretty much knows Draco Malfoy has always had amazing Christmases.Years after the war, the two find themselves and their family enjoying something better than Christmases of the past, something filled with love under the same title, something that neither of them would give up for the world.Follows my 'HP but dark and gay' series, but shows a Potter and a Malfoy Christmas, and then drarry when they're like twenty-three and celebrating with everyone
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Three Best Christmases in Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's finally good life

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! This can be read separately or together with my fic, though it's very much in the future and I worked hard not to reveal anything.

**_The Potter's_ **

Once would expect a majority of Harry Potter’s Christmases to be horrific. 

As an orphan whose parents were violently murdered in front of him, that should be enough information for anyone to assume the worst. Coupled with the fact that his so-called caretakers never really gave him anything but heartbreak and pain, well, anyone with half a brain can deduce the worst; Harry Potter, in all his eleven years, has never had a good Christmas.

It’s a good guess, with solid facts to back up whatever argument can be made about an orphan spending Christmas locked in a cupboard, but a guess is all it is. 

The truth, privy to the few as usual, is that in all his eleven years, Harry Potter has had exactly one good Christmas.

A good Christmas he was far too young to remember, that began far too early in a small cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

_ “James Fleamont Potter!  _ You are  _ not  _ giving that thing to our  _ son!  _ He’s not even a year old!”

“But  _ Lily!  _ It’s tradition! Every first Yule-”

Lily spares a single glare at her husband, who’s stooping low enough to use puppy eyes on him. It won’t work, the only one in their little group to ever pull it off is Sirius, yet her face still softens at the sight.

“James, darling, I love you, you know I do, but we both know that is a load of shit. The cloak is passed on his first birthday, and he won’t  _ need  _ it because he can’t  _ walk  _ yet you  _ gigantic tit.” _

“She’s got you there.”

All arguments are abandoned quickly when Sirius walks into the room. One look at his best mate and James completely forgets the entire conversation, rushing quickly to hug his dog of a friend, like they’re teenagers and not bloody adults. Not that Lily minds, because it’s the distraction she needs to hide the stupid Invisibility Cloak in a place James will never think to look for it; the coat rack.

Remus catches her in the act, hanging up his own coat without a single bat of an eyelash. He does flash her a grin, meaning he’s completely on her side but smart enough not to argue with James about it. It’s a brilliant idea, truly, who has time to argue on a day like today? It’s Christmas for Godric’s sake.

“Think it’ll take him at last a year to find it?” Lily asks, eyeing her husband who’s still dancing in the foyer with Sirius like they’re bloody  _ eleven.  _

Remus chuckles, awfully fond at the whole situation. “I’d say five, no,  _ ten.  _ You have until Harry’s at least eleven. Speaking of the little Poppet, where is he?”

“Poppet? Are we talking about Harry, my one and only  _ adorable  _ godson who has yet to pull my hair and make me cry?” Sirius asks.

It figures. The one thing that could distract Sirius from James is her son. 

“You love it when he does that.” 

“I do, still makes me cry though. He’s got one hell of a grip.”

Oh, doesn’t she know it? Her poor hair will never be the same. Not that she minds, of course. Her favorite time of day is when she lays on the floor and Harry crawls over to her, tangling himself in a sea of crimson. It’s all very cute, and James will never tire of taking pictures of it, but that doesn't mean her hair likes it.

Her heart on the other hand….

“Where is he?” Sirius demands, “You can’t hoard him all to yourself!”

“I bloody well can! He’s  _ my  _ son!”

“Our son,” James corrects, but he stands by Remus so his wife can’t reach to smack his arm.

“Isn’t he still asleep? It’s only eight, he usually sleeps until ten, doesn’t he?”

Lily smiles up at Remus, sweet Remus who actually knows her child’s sleep schedule, unlike his sodding boyfriend.  _ “This.  _ This is why I chose  _ you  _ as godfather part two.”

Sirius snorts, but Remus looks delighted just as he should. It’s bloody Christmas and neither heaven, nor hell, will stop Lily Potter from having a delightful day with her family, Sirius’s whining included.

She drags them all to the kitchen, baking ingredients already laid out for her marvelous distraction plan. Lily and Remus, the two who aren’t disasters in the kitchen, do the actual baking, while James and Sirius decorate. She’s thought ahead, already has a batch waiting to be doused in icing and sugar just in case the two try to sneak off and do something awful, like wake Harry.

It’s weird without Peter here. He always joins them for Christmas, he’s usually the one who helps Lily with the bread  _ and  _ the vegetables, but the poor lad’s mum isn’t doing too well. She hasn’t been doing well in a while, actually, and as much as Lily wishes he were here helping her and Remus distract their children-in-adult-form lovers, she understands. 

There isn’t a person alive who understands needing to be with dying parents like she does.

Which is why they’re only having Christmas morning this year.

At exactly nine forty-six cries can be heard from the second upstairs bedroom. Before she can say a word Sirius is up and running. She didn’t even have time to tell him to wash his hands, so she’s more than prepared for Harry to be covered in icing.

Lily thinks she is at least, but she still can’t help her fond sigh at the sight.

Her little man, her bundle of joy, sleepily rubbing his little eye with a tiny fist that’s absolutely  _ coated  _ in green, sticky, possibly skin-staining icing.

James, thankfully not as messy as his hair leads people to believe, snatches Harry away to clean him up and Lily has never loved him more.

Seeing the two of them together, James balancing Harry on the sink, distracting him with noises as he cleans the sticky off, it does something to her heart. It makes her so  _ happy,  _ so filled with love that she might burst on the spot.

It’s more than enough of a reason to forgo her cookie cutting and march up to her boys so she can plant a kiss on each of their cheeks.

Harry reaches for her instantly, giggles bubbling up on that stupidly cute, pudgy little face of his and Lily can’t resist. She snatches him from James and hugs him tight, planting as many kisses as she can on his face and not caring at all that her son is now covered in flour.

_ “Lily!  _ I  _ just  _ finished cleaning him.”

“And you can do it again.” Lily replies, still holding a happy Harry in her arms. 

James rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. So disgustingly fond and pure. He tops it off with a kiss to her forehead, making Sirius and Remus both gag.

“Godric, tell me we’re not as gross as they are. Please, Moony, we can’t be that bad.”

“I’m afraid we’re worse, love.” Remus sighs. He too takes a chance at Harry, since Lily and James are staring fondly into each other’s eyes and Harry is frowning at how bad the flour tastes. It’s not chocolate, and they’ve come to find that Harry  _ loves  _ chocolate. 

Lily forbade them to give him any until he’s two, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. 

“Mumma!” Harry protests, now that he’s awake enough to realize that the icky wetness on his cheek is  _ cleaning  _ him, Godric forbid he ever be clean.

Lily, fully aware that Harry calling for her is her biggest weakness, cleans herself with a bit of wandless magic and swoops in to save the day. “Is bad Uncle Remus cleaning you? We can’t have that, huh? No sir, we have to make the biggest mess in the world, huh?”

Harry doesn’t understand a word she’s saying, but he lights up at her baby voice like he always does. It makes Lily more prone to do so, to the point that she’ll sometimes slip up and talk to James in the same voice. He never calls her on it, never blinks an eye. Most of the time he’ll just kiss her forehead and it’s in those magical moments, and moments like these, that truly make the day special. 

The kitchen is wrecked, Remus is the only one who ever manages to stay fully clean during their Christmas baking, but none of it matters. James simply spells it all clean and proceeds to drag them all into the living room for their first present opening of the day.

He’s already completely forgotten about the cloak, just like Lily thought he would. Instead he shovels presents into piles while the rest camly take a seat.

Well, Remus and Lily calmly take their seats. Sirius settles in between Remus’s legs, positively  _ bouncing  _ with excitement. Harry, because his father and godfather are excited, is curious and trying to lean out of Lily’s lap, something that is absolutely  _ not  _ happening.

Opening presents never takes long, purely because James and Sirius rip into their gifts like the two year olds that they are. Even Harry takes time to play with the wrapper.

It always ends the same, Sirius and James done first, waiting with big wide eyes to see what the other got, completely obvious to Lily and Remus watching them rip apart packaging.

Sirius is already preening at the hair products Lily got him. For all her teasing, she does love him to death, and she knows how important his hair is to him. The day Sirius Black, the man with the sleekest and shiniest curls, lets his hair routine die is the day that Voldemort wins this war.

Lily shakes her head, now is not the time. 

It’s Christmas, and James is looking between her and the locket in his hand with tears forming in his eyes. He always does this, and Lily will make sure that her presents always make him cry. This year she’d really outdone herself with such a simple thing. A golden locket, one to match his family ring, with pictures of his parents on one side and the other… The one picture Lily allowed at St. Muggos when Harry was born. Her smiling down at her little bundle of joy.

She’s definitely winning their competition this year, or so she thinks. Truth be told, James’s gift is hard not to cry at. Her own dead parents smile back at her from their wedding day. That and the tea mug she mentioned just  _ once  _ in their fifth year.

This gift giving competition of theirs is going to leave her a sobbing mess. Her eyes are so watery she can barely see what Harry’s wrapping his little hands around until it’s too late.

_ “Sirius.  _ Tell me you didn’t get my son a broom.”

“Why not?! He should have one, you know. He’s gonna be a fit Seeker, just like his dad!”

“He  _ can’t walk you idiot!” _

Harry looks over to her with his eyes smiling. Sadly, his mouth is too busy chewing on his new broom that Lily is going to strangle Sirius over. 

Remus, thankfully not a blubbering mess like everyone else in the room, just sighs and takes the broom out of Harry’s mouth, talking to him in his Teacher Voice. “Now, Harry, we can’t put things like this in our mouths. This is wood, you understand, it’s not edible and should you try to eat it, I promise you will not like it.”

Harry blinks at him, blinks at the broom, and then reaches for Remus’s tie to tug it.  _ Hard. _

It’s his own fault, really, he knows Harry likes blue things. Andromeda nearly lost an eye because of it, Lily doesn’t even want to think about what he’d do if Moody ever let him get a hold of that fake magical eye.

Thankfully, Sirius’s gift aside, the rest goes well. Remus gets a few lovely sweaters, and a mound of chocolate that might last him a month. Lily has bits of jewelry, a few books, and her favorite tea from that one shady part of Diagon Alley. She has no idea what Sirius and James are whispering about, but it can’t be good, so she tugs Harry close only to find he’s fallen asleep.

Oh well, at least this will make getting to the Potter Manor easier.

All they have to do now is escape Sirius and Remus, both of whom they’ll be seeing tonight. Remus distracts Sirius with a grossly heated kiss that James shield’s Harry’s ‘pure, innocent’ eyes from while Lily grabs floo powder.

They’re gone before either of the unsuspecting idiots knows what’s happening.

“Lily!” James complains, “You didn’t even let me say-is Harry asleep? Can I hold him? You know he sleeps best on my shoulder.”

Considering that doing this will shut James up and look adorable as it always does, Lily hands Harry over. She can’t help but coo when Harry instinctively curls into Jame’s neck, fast asleep and looking as happy as he can possibly be. Lily’s heart surges at the sigh, she’ll never get over how much she loves them.

Just like she’ll never get over how  _ loud  _ Fleamont is.

“Lily! James! We haven’t seen each other in-”

“Hush, Fleamont, Harry is sleeping.”

Euphemia, thankfully, makes up for all the tact her husband lacks, quiet in her heels as she ushers each of them into a hug, planting a kiss on both their cheeks. 

“He’s asleep?” Fleamont whispers, “Godric, I do apologize. I suppose this means we should put on tea, hm?”

They don’t talk about the illness, even though James aches to. Lily does too, she doesn't fancy seeing her in-laws look so small and fragile. She remembers the day she first met them, Fleamont so tall and strong, Euphemia so sweet and caring. They fit into a perfect slot in her life, making her family whole. 

“Come, dears, this way.”

Christmas tea with James’s parents is always the same. So familiar that Lily doesn’t bother asking where to sit, it’s been ages since she’s felt nervous in their home. James and Euphemia take Harry for a stroll in the garden while she and Fleamont play a heated game of Wizard’s chest that he always loses. Tea is served thirty minutes after they arrive, often in the middle of the chess game that Euphemia and James always come back to comment on.

The only difference this year is that James has Harry in his arms, safe and secure, fast asleep until the smell of tea wakes him up and Euphemia steals him away from her son’s lap so she can take a million pictures. 

All of them are awful about spoiling him. Harry is Lily’s biggest weakness. She’s never had problems with the word ‘no’ in her entire life, but one look into those big green eyes and all her strictness flies out the window. James never bothers with it unless it’s bath time. Granted, he did go out for eggs once and return with an entire box-load of bath toys because ‘it’ll make him happy! Our son should always be happy, Lily!’ Sirius and Remus are awful about it, showing up with gifts even when they all go out for bar nights. Peter is the only one in their little friend group who’s ever really been able to put his foot down. Part of that is because the man isn’t overly fond of kids, the other half because Lily never leaves him alone with Harry for long. Not that she doesn’t trust him of course, it’s just that if he’s not fond of kids, Lily isn’t going to  _ force  _ him to look after Harry. She has Remus and Sirius for that.

Well, them and the Potters, who are the worst about spoiling Harry.

Fleamont is constantly opening up chocolate frogs just because Harry likes to watch them bounce. They bought him a dinosaur crystal enchanted to roar, Euphemia is a big fan of getting things Lily can’t ever fully wrap her head around.

She’d like to point out that Harry  _ can’t walk,  _ like she’s been doing all day, but she also knows that Harry’s inability to walk will not stop Euphemia for buying whatever she wants for Harry. Really? Where the hell is a play gym  _ that big  _ going to go? Harry’s room is already filled to the brim with toys, blankets spilling out from where she and James can hide them. Just thinking about the boy’s stuffed animal collection gives Lily a headache.

A headache that disappears the instant Harry smiles at her.

Oh well, she has to come to terms with the fact that Harry is going to be spoiled rotten for his entire life. To be quite honest she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Around five Euphemia ushers them to the dining room for their annual Christmas Feast. Each year the house elves out-do themselves, like they’ve turned it into a personal competition, and this year is no different. Mounds of food clutter the table. Everything from sweet potatoes to Shepard’s pie.

“Who are you giving to first?” James asks around a mouth full of peas.

Another Potter Tradition that Lily adores. 

Each year, after they’ve stuffed themselves full, Fleamont and Euphemia take to the streets with the leftovers. Typically St. Muggos and Mrs. Porters Home for Magical Children get first dibs, then they’ll drop by Diagon Alley, feed the late-night workers, and force food on unlucky souls that don’t have anyone to spend the holiday with. 

Euphemia smiles around her glass of wine, “I think the orphanage this year, St. Muggos was last year’s first, right love?”

Fleamont’s mouth is too full of food to talk, so he simply nods and motions to Harry, who has managed to get his entire hands full of mashed potatoes when she wasn’t looking. 

They take a freshly cleaned Harry home at eight, leaving just enough time for their nightly routines.

James does not bathe their son tonight because he’s been cleaned three times so far. Instead, they just change him into his favorite jumper, the one with snitches on it that Sirius takes as a sign of him growing up and becoming a World Famous Seeker. Lily sits with him in their reading chair, letting him play and chew on her hair while she lulls him to sleep with a book about a snake who’s refusing to go to bed.

Thankfully, Harry is not the snake in the book, as he’s out in five minutes flat. James takes him and tucks him into his crib. Lily places his favorite toy beside him, a small blue dragon with silver spots down the tail.

They’ll have to leave soon, Sirius and Remus will be here at nine for a night cap, they should really clean up the mess in the living room, James has to get ready for work tomorrow. They have so many things to do, but neither of them can move an inch away from the crib.

“Do you think he had a good first Christmas?” James mummers, coming to wrap his arms around her.

Lily lets herself sink into his chest. She doesn’t take her eyes off her son. Instead she lets herself commit this moment to memory. Harry, holding his stuffie tightly, so spoiled and adorable and everything she loves. Well, everything except the man holding her and the life they’ve built. This wonderful, sometimes messy, war-torn and terrifying life. The one that makes her heart so full it’s constantly bursting at the seams.

“I think he did, love, I really think he did.”

  
  
  
  


_ **The Malfoy’s** _

Quite like everyone believes, Draco Malfoy’s Christmases are always wonderful and perfect. 

How could they not be? Lucius and Narcissa may not be perfect, they may not see eye to eye and they may strike fear into most of the world, but to Draco Malfoy they are merely mum and dad, some of the very few people he loves more than himself.

And if there’s anything Narcissa and Lucius have learned over the years, it’s that they would do anything, absolutely  _ anything  _ for their son.

Anything including being woken up just as the sun is rising by a giggling six year old.

Lucius groans, trying to hide in their massive bed for just a  _ few  _ more hours, but Draco’s having none of it. Narcissa, not nearly as stupid as her husband, merely smiles. She peeks her eyes open to see Draco sneaking onto the foot of their bed and waits for him to crawl forward. Just a few feet until she can grab him and force him down between the two of them. 

“Mumma!” Draco whines. “Mumma we  _ can’t  _ sleep! It’s  _ Christmas!”  _

Lucius groans again, rolling over and capturing their son in his arms. “Sleepy time, little Dragon,” he slurs, much to Draco’s disappointment.

“Papa. We can sleep  _ tomorrow,  _ but today is  _ Christmas  _ so we have to be awake! There are  _ presents!  _ And-and  _ cookies!”  _

“And broccoli,” Narcissa supplies. She watches her son frown with only a bit of amusement, curling up close to the boy squirming in her husband’s arms. Lucius has no doubt gone back to sleep, it is only six in the morning, and they’re not expecting anyone until much later. She isn’t against the idea of sleeping just a bit more, but in order to do that she’ll have to get Draco back to sleep.

Not like that’s hard, of course.

“Draco.” She mummers, running a gentle hand through soft blonde hair, “Would you like to hear a Christmas Story?”

Draco perks up instantly. 

Always a big fan of stories, but young enough not to know that it’s the same story each year. Narcissa has it memorized by now. 

She won’t change it until next year, when Draco might realize her little trick but for now it’s fine. A story of a wizard who has to leave home, go on a small quest for the perfect Christmas present for his family. On the way he faces a Dragon, Trolls, a mean old wizard who’s full of riddles and half-truths. Draco’s always half asleep by the time the wizard reaches a cave full of emeralds but Narcissa always finishes the story anyways. She tells her son how the wizard carefully picks out the best stone and how he rushes back to his family, how they praise him for his struggles, and how the best gift of all was simply the wizard being home for Christmas, so he could spend it surrounded by love.

Draco’s fully asleep by now, tucked into Lucius’s arms, his head on Narcissa’s shoulder. Everything is exactly as it should be, so Narcissa closes her eyes and nods off herself.

Not for long, though, because at nine in the bloody morning Draco is up again, this time with Lucius as his partner in crime.

“Mumma! We have to get up  _ now!  _ It’s  _ Christmas!  _ Papa tell her!”

Lucius chuckles, “Sissy, haven’t you heard? It’s Christmas, and one simply does not sleep on Christmas.”

Narcissa briefly considers sending a light stinging jinx to her husband, but Draco is impatiently waiting so she just opens her eyes with a huff. “How silly of me! I didn’t know it was  _ Christmas!”  _

Draco’s eyes widen, like he can’t imagine something so awful, so Narcissa takes mercy on him and plops a big wet kiss right in the middle of his forehead. “If it’s Christmas we should head downstairs, huh? It’s awfully rude of us to keep the presents waiting….why don’t you keep them company for a few minutes until your father and I can join you?”

Draco prances off in a hurry, leaving enough time for Lucius to kiss her ever so softly. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas.”

They bask in each other’s warmth for a few moments before giving into the inevitable. Draco’s horridly impatient on today, and while he’s stubborn about opening gifts with  _ everyone,  _ he’s certainly not above running back and chastising them for taking so long. 

When the two of them finally make it down he’s already sorted gifts into four piles. The ‘he’ in question bounces on his feet, looking between the piles with so much joy and excitement that Narcissa’s chest tightens. 

“Will Severus be here soon?” Draco asks, “He  _ has  _ to be! He can’t miss it, right?”

As if hearing Draco call for him, the floo a few feet away from their tree lights up and Severus Snape steps through, carrying a bag and looking in desperate need of coffee.

“SEVERUS!” Merlin, Narcissa loves her child, but she also hasn’t had a single cup of coffee yet. Neither has Severus apparently, as he winces at Draco’s volume, but doesn’t do much to stop the boy charging at him. “Severus! Merry Christmas! Mumma didn’t even  _ know!  _ Isn’t that silly?”

“Yes...very silly indeed.” Severus looks up with questioning eyes, but it’s the exact second Sisily pops into the room with three coffees so he gives up whatever question he had quickly.

Since everyone Draco  _ has  _ to open presents with is here, he quickly bounds back to his own pile, looking to make sure everyone is watching as he tears into wrapping paper.

There are sweets from Crabbe and Goyle, toys from Pansy and Blaise, gifts from their parents like the parents didn’t pick out their children’s gifts too. Draco seems particularly fond of the giant teddy bear Bella Zabini got him, probably because it’s heated and it  _ is  _ rather cold in the manor.

Draco saves their gifts for last, his favorites a beginner Potion’s Kit from Severus, a silk blanket with a dragon embroidered on it from Narcissa, and a new emerald sweater from Lucius.

“Of all the things...you know that broom I got him cost me a few thousand.” Lucius grumbles.

Narcissa just shrugs, “He likes soft things and that sweater is softer than our sheets, love.”

Severus, thankfully, does not complain about Draco’s gift, as the boy demands an explanation of Pepper-Ups that lasts the entirety of breakfast. They eat lightly, as dinner will leave them full for days, and then they commence with the usual.

After making sure Draco will be warm from head to toe, the four of them venture out to the gardens for their annual Christmas walk. Narcissa tucks herself into Lucius’s side, letting Draco drag Severus along to show him how much better snow makes everything. There’s plenty of it to show off, the gardens are nearly covered in the pure white stuff. Draco insists on making magical snowmen, a few elves for Sisily and Dobby, and a dragon that Lucius and Severus magically put together just to see Draco smile.

Narcissa takes them inside to warm up for tea.

Eventually they depart, Severus back to his home while the rest wander into the library. Lucius has a book out in all of three seconds, so Narcissa sets Draco up with some toys so she can catch up on her own reading.

It’s peaceful and quiet, well, as quiet as it can be with a six year old playing, but peaceful nonetheless. At three o’clock Katheriene and Bella pop in, Pansy and Blaise clinging to their sides.

The two children spare her and Lucius a quick greeting before Draco’s running into the room and hugging them both.

“Mrs. Zabini!” He throws his little arms around Belle’s knees, “Thank you for my Teddy!” Draco releases her to hug Katherine as well, “Mrs. Parkinson, thank you for my snow globe!”

“You’re very welcome, dear, but please, call me Katheriene.” Katie tells him.

“Who are we? Our mothers?” Belle sighs, but brushes Draco’s hair back as Pansy and Blasie give the older Malfoys their thanks as well.

It doesn’t take long for Draco to drag his best friends into his room, it never does, really. They’ll be entertained until dinner, meaning Narcissa will have to fetch them herself because the house-elves never stand a chance on Christmas.

“Where’s Edward?” Narcissa asks, leading Belle and Katie to the tea room, “He’s not missing dinner, is he?”

“Of course not, he’s just taking a quick nap. We couldn’t get Pansy back to sleep this morning but by Merlin did we try.”

“Pansy doesn’t sleep in? I had to personally wake Blaise up at noon, he’d sleep all day if I let him.”

Narcissa does not comment on Belle’s lack of partner, she rarely has one on Christmas. If she does they’re usually being buried somewhere no one will find them, but since she hasn’t given her usual ‘he couldn’t make it’ it’s safe to assume there are no new dead bodies. Thank Merlin for that, the last one, Edwin maybe?, was a nightmare.  _ And  _ he insulted Belle’s crystal collection.

Annoying, rude, and ungrateful personalities aside, it’s still good that death won’t dampen anyone’s Christmas spirit this year. 

Katherine eases into her seat, launching into a detailed explanation of her evening as though Narcissa and Belle didn’t see her yesterday at the annual Malfoy Yule Ball. Not that Narcissa minds. She’s been dying to find out who made her friends dress. Ball talk quickly turns into relishing in their children’s gifts, what they’re planning on doing next year, and if the summer trip to Brazil is still happening. Lucius joins them for that, swearing up and down to impero Fudge if the bastard doesn’t give him time off. 

“Really, I have a  _ son  _ who is much more important than that imbecile’s whiny requests.”

Dobby comes to inform them that Draco, Blaise, and Pansy will be late to dinner because one of them, probably Blaise, thought finger paining might be a good idea. That child has a knack for awful timing, but none of them mind. Their children are happy. They are loved and cherished and the parents in the room have worked so hard to ensure that the world never hurts them. 

Growing up in the midst of darkness is not easy, but Narcissa will be damned if that darkness ruins her son’s childhood. 

Darkness that is still on her child’s face, in the form of blue paint he didn’t fully get off. 

Narcissa sighs, spelling him completely clean without a single comment because it’s Christmas and she can’t be bothered to scold him. Not when he’s talking so excitedly to a scowling Blaise and a giggling Pansy. Not when Belle and Katheriene are watching with amused smiles. Not when Lucius is holding her hand, allowing himself to be softer than usual.

Eventually dinner draws to a close, the Parkinsons and Zabinis leave them to their own devices. It’s Draco who leads them to the ballroom this year, dragging them both by the hand because he’ll simply die if they don’t hurry up. He’s prepared a new song, been working on it for the past month just for them.

Draco takes a seat at the grand piano, a black old antique that the house elves charm to play Christmas music each year. It’s silent now. As though it’s waiting for Draco’s little fingers to grace it’s keys, to fill the room with a melody that’s slightly off tempo, has a wrong note or two, but is more beautiful than anything else that’s ever been played in their life because it’s filled with love.

Lucius offers her a hand, right as Draco starts playing and it’s perfect.

The manor, once so cold and distant, gleams with soft lights and warm fires. There’s only three of them, they couldn’t hope to fill this house by themselves, but it’s enough. Being here, being happy with Lucius and Draco, it’s all Narcissa could have ever wished for.

In the background the music fades.

Draco comes up to them, still dressed in his fuzzy socks and cashmere jumper.

“Can I dance too?”

Narcissa smiles down at him, her heart so full of love and happiness she’s sure it’s making her glow.

“Of course you can.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_**Potter-Malfoy** _

  
  


Having forgotten the one Christmas he did enjoy, Harry Potter has never much cared for the holiday. Granted, that changed once he got into Hogwarts, once he met the Weasleys, once he had a reason to love the stupidly cold season. But even as the years passed, he couldn’t help but notice something missing. 

He doesn’t realize it at first, but on his twenty-third Christmas, he fully understands why people love the day so much.

It doesn’t start early, with a mother and father bickering over presents, and it certainly doesn’t start at the crack of dawn with an over excited six-year old. No, it begins at eleven thirty, in a soft bed that’s really too big, with even softer hair brushing against his arms.

Harry reaches down to the arms wrapped around his waist and pulls them tighter, not ready to face the day, certainly not ready to leave his stupidly big bed. He’s thinking of all the ways he can stay here in the warmth just a little bit longer when there’s a gentle kiss pressed into his bare shoulder.

“G’morning.” 

A small smile graces his lips. He rolls over in those strong, dainty arms to see the best Christmas gift he could possibly think of. Draco, with his messy bed head and soft blue eyes that haven’t fully opened yet. His breath never stinks in the morning, and it’s the perfect reason for Harry to kiss him as softly as he can manage. “Good morning.”

“Is it today?” Draco whispers back. 

Harry pushes his head right into the nook under his husband’s chin. “Afraid so.”

“Come now, love. It’s our first Christmas together, it won’t be that bad.”

“We’ve been celebrating together since fifth year you twat.”

“But not like this.” 

Harry fiddles with the golden ring on his finger, the one that makes him smile like a love-struck student, the one that fills his heart with things he can never voice right. “Not like this…”

“I know you think you’re hiding a smile but I can feel it.”

“You can’t feel anything, Malfoys don’t have hearts.”

“Maybe, but Potter-Malfoys do. Come on, we have to get up.”

Harry quickly snakes his arms around Draco, keeping him right in place with their stupid big bed that smell like them both. “No we don’t.”

“Yes we do,” Draco reasons with a kiss on top of messy black hair. “Think of it like this; the sooner we get this over with the sooner we get to have Christmas Sex.”

Harry blinks.

_ Christmas sex?!  _

It’s unfortunately a great opportunity for Draco, who uses his husband’s shock to wiggle free. He looks mildly stupid standing in their bedroom, nothing but boxers and an annoyingly smug smile. “Family first, Christmas sex later.”

Harry groans, but his whining never saves him, so he sucks it up and meets Draco in the kitchen ten minutes later for coffee and a plan.

“This year is Christmas breakfast with your mum and dad, then we’re going to the Weasleys for the afternoon, Blaise’s for afternoon tea, and it’s Sirius’s turn to do dinner.”

“Is Sirius doing dinner, or is Kreecher cooking with Remus’s help?”

Harry frowns, “I honestly don’t think Narcissa would let Sirius be in charge after last time.”

Last time being the one and only time Harry got to have Chinese food for Christmas Dinner. No one was happy about it, well, no one but Sirius, Harry, and Ron who all agreed that any food can be Christmas food. Molly and Pansy didn’t take well to that one, the Malfoys had nearly fainted. Lucius found the whole thing more funny than offensive, but Narcissa….

“You’re right.” Draco shutters from the memory, “Mum probably oversaw the whole thing. I think she swore to Merlin’s grave last time.”

Harry finishes his coffee, lets Draco double check everything because if he doesn’t he’ll feel anxious for the whole day and while Harry isn’t a huge fan of Christmas, Draco certainly is and Harry is a Good Husband who honestly hates it when Draco is any form of upset.

“Presents?”

“Yep.”

“For everyone, we can’t forget Theo’s presents two years in a row.”

“In my defense, he was gone for two years prior, it is not my fault I sent it in the mail, but yes I have it.”

“Good. Shoes? Keys? Wallet?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

“Wards are secure?”

“Yep.”

“Winky and Dobby are already at mum and dad’s?”

“If the mean note Winky left means anything, then yeah.”

“I think I’m forgetting something…”

Harry pats down his pockets, making sure all items are there. He peeks into his cross body, recounting each present by hand just to make sure they’re all there. He even summons the note Winky left on the kitchen counter and reads it twice, reciting every bit from her complaining about them locking her out to her whining about not being able to make them coffee, and then stares at Draco who might have lost his mind.

Draco, who is staring back with an amused twinkle in his eyes and a small smile on his lips.

“I’m forgetting a kiss from my wonderful husband, silly me.” He closes the space between them, easily wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“It is the most important thing on the list.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

They meet in the middle, Draco leaning just a bit down and Harry tilting his head up to perfectly slot his lips against Draco’s softer ones. For a second he considers throwing everything to the side and spending the entire day kissing his husband, but then he feels the tell-tell pull at his stomach and he’s stumbling to catch his footing at Malfoy Manor.

“You could’ve warned me!”

“But you always do better with apparition when we’re kissing! Remember our honeymoon?”

Harry does, in fact, remember their honeymoon. He’d like to spend all day remembering it, but thinking about all the things he and Draco got up to in Brazil while Narcissa and Lucius are around is not favorable.

“Don’t tease him,” Narcissa scolds, moving silently like she always does even though she’s walking on wood. “It’s Christmas! You can’t be mean on Christmas, love.”

Draco rolls his eyes, accepting and returning a kiss on Narcissa’s cheek before hugging his father.

“It’s partly my fault, you’d think I’d have gotten better at it over the years.”

“Still makes you feel a bit woozy?” Narcissa asks, giving Harry his own kiss on the cheek.

“Yep, nothing I can’t handle though.”

Lucius shakes his hand, a bit weird considering the multiple times he nearly died for Harry, the fact that Harry has seen him drunk on  _ several  _ occasions. Harry, rolling his eyes, pulls his father-in-law in for a hug that makes the old man laugh.

“Not to say I told you so, but if you’d learned under less stress…”

“Hey! I had to get it done in like three months!”

“You did not!” Lucius tells him. “You had six months to learn and you  _ rushed  _ it.”

They look to Narcissa and Draco, who just shrug and link arms on the way to the dining table.

“I’ll win this argument if it kills me,” Harry tells Lucius.

A glare is held between the two for all of three seconds before they’re both laughing, joking all the way to the dining room. It’s been an on-going war between them ever since Harry’s paper on Dark Arts prevention got published three years ago. He cited one, just one, little tiny snip-bit wrong and Lucius isn’t ever going to let him forget it. Probably because Lucius was the one who taught Harry about Occlumency in the first place, but their arguments have come from a place of love for so long that Harry usually lets it go.

Winky frowns at them as she places their food. “Masters Dracos and Master Harrys be having a good morning without wakings….Christmas mornings late…”

“Winky, love, please don’t be mad!” 

Harry doesn't understand  _ why  _ Draco’s begging now. He was the one who made sure their room was completely locked off last night, and he even said Winky would be upset that she couldn’t wake them. It’s only natural, she’s been waking up Draco since fifth year, the two of them have been listening to her morning threats for so long it’s more amusing than scary. 

At first he was against taking her with them when they moved out, Draco out of Malfoy Manor and Harry out of Grimmauld Place. Something about having a technical servant didn’t sit right with him, so much so that he refused Dobby when the house elf first asked to come with him. Winky...well, Winky did not take kindly to being left. To be fair, she’s been with them forever and has always been more of a friend than a house elf. Sort of like an overbearing mother at times, sure, and they both had wanted her to spend the rest of her life free and happy.

Winky did not agree.

Winky showed up at their house every single Godric forsaken day demanding that Draco take her back, and when she came with Dobby in tow, the two were impossible to say no to. 

Harry never thought in a million years that he’d have two house elves for roommates, but he also never expected to survive a war and have a good Christmas, so.

“Winky is not being mad,” Dobby pops in to tell them. His Santa hat hands off one droopy ear, nearly overshadowed by his big smile. “She just be wanting to tell the sirs ‘Merry Christmas’ is all!”

Lucius snorts into his tea cup, quickly avoiding eye contact and raising a fork to his eggs. “I’ve already told our staff, I can’t believe my son hasn’t.”

He inhales sharply a second later, Harry would bet money that Narcissa stepped on his foot. 

Draco flashes all three of them a dirty look before turning to Winky. “Love, you know I’ve already bought you the best present money can buy. You and Dobby both have one at home, that you’ll be opening with us when we get there. If you want to go ahead and open it-”

“No, no.” Winky glares, but it’s half hearted and ruined by the smile on her little elf face. “Master should be having a Merry Christmas or tomorrow’s coffee will be being cold, sir.”

Harry outright laughs at that. He doesn't stop even when Draco and Winky scold him at the same exact time, not even when Narcissa threatens to shave his head if he ruins her Christmas Breakfast.

He doesn’t. He’s not sure he  _ could  _ ruin it. Christmas with the Malfoys is nearly always perfect. All because there’s no one to hide from so they can be as normal as they want to be. Lucius hangs up his ‘Ministry Asshole’ hat for the day, becoming the man Harry’s grown to love. Sometimes he looks exactly like he did all those years ago, back when he worried about them living through a war, back when he’d take Harry though high-class lessons that actually made sense, back when Harry would catch him smiling softly at them all. It’s nice to see him outside of his professional role, and sure, it happens all the time because they don’t go a full month without seeing the Malfoys, but it’s softer because it’s Christmas and Lucius Malfoy is a big old softie on Christmas.

Narcissa’s just like she always is, sweeping into room and lighting them up in a way that only she can. Perfect even in her imperfections, pushing blankets on them so they won’t be cold when they open presents, pulling her hair back so it won’t be in her way when she opens presents. She’s always on, though Harry’s never really seen her off because she’s  _ always  _ plotting something. Even right now, on fucking Christmas day, the little gleam in her eye is there.

“Did you do something?” Harry whispers to her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Yes she fucking does. 

Her not having a clue makes literally no sense, and Harry finds out shortly anyways. Her Christmas Plot this year is something he couldn’t have guessed even if he tried.

“Is this…” Draco holds up two tickets. “I-mum what did you-?”

“It was simple, actually.” Narcissa shrugs, pulling tea to her mouth with a wicked smile. “I merely requested a meeting with Minister Kingsley and demanded he give the two of you off so you can finally visit France and see Fleur. Don’t give me that look! You’ve been missing her all year! And you can’t take it back! Your rooms are already booked, I have dinner reservations and a ferry ride already paid for.”

If Draco doesn’t hug her Harry will. 

Before Bill and Fleur had a kid seeing them was as easy as seeing Ron and Hermione, but then Dominique came along and it got slightly harder, and then they had to move back to France for Fleur’s job and well...they write of course! But it’s not the same! 

Lucius groans, “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve collaborated!”

“But then it wouldn’t have been  _ my  _ gift, love, and you know my gifts are always the best.”

No one doubts her, Harry can’t recall a single gift from Narcissa that she didn’t love. She’s always easy to shop for, he got her a new silverware set and a teal bracelet this year, for Lucius he finally broke down and bullied Draco into buying him a new walking stick. Harry got the stick, and Draco spent  _ hours  _ looking for the right accessories.

Despite his complaints, Lucius’s gift will be perfect for France, as it’s literally an entire stack of Dark Arts books for Harry, ranging from theories to personal accounts of defeats, perfect for a little light reading while Draco’s doing whatever the fuck he does in the bathroom that takes so long. Draco gets a new traveling pouch, extendable charm and location detector included because Lucius still isn’t over the one time Draco had a medical expedition and got lost for a week.

Harry still isn’t over it either, and that’s exactly why the little gold bands on their fingers also work as tracking devices. Well, that and the fact that Harry is awful about losing jewelry. 

The grandfather clock in the main living room strikes noon and they have to depart with kisses and hugs. Narcissa makes them promise to warn her if Sirius ‘ruins Christmas’ again.

Harry links hands with Draco, closes his eyes and holds his breath until the wave of dizziness ends and he catches sight of fuzzy brown hair before whatever breath he was holding is knocked out of him.

“Harry! Draco! Merry Christmas!” 

Hermione pulls back to smile at them both, but she only gets a second before Ron is pulling him and Draco into a hug. “Run while you can,” He whispers, “Mum is losing it.”

Harry doesn’t hear anything at first, the Weasley house is as bustling as it always is around this time of year. All children and their partners, plus little ones running about. Nothing too out of the ordinary until he hears it.

_ “George Weasley get back here this instant! I don’t care if Fred did it-you helped!” _

“They might’ve set mum’s new tree on fire.” Ginny tells them, casually walking up to hug them.

Luna trails behind her with a big smile. She hugs her cousin first before gracing Harry with a kiss on the cheek. “It was all in good fun, of course. They did think it was fireproof, just the wrong sort, you understand. Nothing is truly fireproof from baby dragons.”

“Baby dragons? Is Charlie here?”

Ron nods, getting ready to go back into the fray, and then a little tiny head of brown zooms past him to attack Harry’s knees. “Uncle ‘Arry! Uncle Dr’co!”

“Rose!” Draco drops to his knees immediately, arms wide for Hermione and Ron’s daughter to climb into. “Merlin you’re bigger every time I see you!”

“But you just saw me last week!”

“Are you sure? It feels like years, but you’re surely big enough to catch me when I faint, right?”

Harry uses Draco’s distraction of half-falling on Rose to smuggle Hermione and Ron their yearly bottle of wine. Adults or not, they are all still Molly Weasley’s children, and would all sooner be caught dead than having alcohol. Ginny rolls her eyes, but she smiles all the same as Luna accepts their rum and vanishes it back to their apartment.

“Mum!” Fred cries from the livingroom, “You can’t be mad, it’s  _ Christmas!” _

“Yeah! And Harry and Draco just got here! Isn’t that more important than Fred and I blowing up your tree?”

“They blew it up?” Harry whispers.

“It was quite magical.” Luna sighs, “Fleur had to stop the fire herself.”

Speaking of the Veela, Fleur marches in, little Dominique asleep on her side. She speaks in rapid fire French to Draco, hugging them both like it’s completely normal. The funny thing is that it  _ is  _ completely normal and Harry wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Christmas with the Weasleys has always been a bit hectic. At first it was just Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Percy, and Harry. Then Charlie got bullied into attending since he’s back in Britain, and since Bill and Fleur have a direct floo over they’ve been forced to join. Hermione’s been coming even before her and Ron had a kid, Luna’s been here since her and Ginny jokingly got engaged back in Hogwarts. And since Fred got married, Angela is here too, along with their kids, Hermione’s Rose, and Fleur’s Dominique. They’re lucky Charlie and Percy are too in love with work, otherwise there might not be enough room for them all. 

“Harry, Draco!” Mrs. Weasley walks into the room, still red in the face from yelling, but with a lovely smile to boot. “Don’t just stand there, come in, come in!”

They never have time to do a full lunch because opening presents with everyone takes every second of three hours. The kids go first, Fred and George sneaking presents when they think no one is looking. Adults have to wait until the kids are distracted before opening their own gifts, none of them are brave enough to risk the wrath of the parents in the room.

It’s loud, constantly filled with laughter, full to the brim, with no seating and sometimes no room to walk but it’s perfect. Even when Harry has to sit on the floor, he gets to lean into Draco’s knees so it’s fine. Even when Harry has to distract Fred’s eldest, Chuck, it’s fine because it lets Fred and Angela get a quiet moment in. Even when Fleur screams so loudly it nearly ruptures his ear drums, it’s perfect because she’s just excited that he and Draco can finally visit. 

There’s never enough time to spend it with all of them, Harry literally has to drag himself away from a conversation with Mr. Weasley and Charlie about dragons’ involvement in Defense Magic. He has to stop himself from hugging Ginny until her lungs burst, and he can’t stand around and plan pranks with the twins until night comes.

As much as he wishes time with them could drag out forever, it can’t. But it’s not so bad because he’ll be seeing them in a few hours, and he has other people to see. People like their messy Slytherin friends.

When they arrive at Blaise’s flat, the first thing they hear is Pansy complaining, the very thing that lets them know all is as it should be.

“You can’t open it  _ now,  _ you have to wait for Draco and Harry!”

“But they’re taking forever!” Theo whines back. “And I’m not the only one-Millie is already opening hers- _ ow!  _ It’s  _ Christmas,  _ Blaise, we don’t  _ hit  _ on Christmas!”

Neville’s laughter fills the air. “Yeah,  _ Blaise.  _ We don’t  _ hit  _ on Christmas!”

Harry and Draco share a look, coming from their apparition point in the kitchen to Blaise’s ridiculously big livingroom. 

“Blaise-Bear.” Draco gasps, completely ignoring Pansy already getting up to hug them, “We simply do not condone violence on- _ oof!” _

Pansy hits him right in the heart, head bouncing off his chest. “You’re late!”

“We are not! We’re three minutes early!”

“Which is two minutes late in Slytherin time.” 

Draco rolls his eyes, ignoring her words so he can hug her tighter and move around to his other friends. Theo’s already complaining about how bloody cold it is this year, Neville watches with utter amusement, completely content to listen to a million complaints until Blaise has enough and hits Theo with a package. “Quit your bloody whining and open your gifts. If we’re late Sirius will kill us.”

“You say that like Narcissa won’t beat him to it.”

She would. Narcissa is pretty forgiving, but she can’t stand it when people are late. 

Watching the Slytherins and Neville open gifts is always the funniest thing to Harry. Pansy takes her time, slowly undoing every little bit of tape, magically folding her left over paper, politely making correct noises where it’s appropriate. One year Harry purposefully got her an awful gift just to see her façade break, it didn’t work of course, but he still tried. Blaise is only slightly better, simply vanishing the paper and giving a rating from one-to-ten. Blaise is also pretty easy to shop for, so Harry usually ends up anywhere from a seven and up, Draco’s the only one to ever get a perfect score.

Theo and Millie, thankfully, don’t hold back. They tear into gifts like crazy little kids, leaving wrapping paper on the floor, a ripped bag here and tissue paper there. Theo voices his opinions loudly and crassly, but Millie, a true sweetheart, never has a single mean thing to say about her gifts. She never says it to their faces, at least. There isn’t a doubt in his mind that Millie complains when no one is looking. 

Neville is between the two groups, walking a thin line of graciously accepting gifts while tearing into paper. His gifts are always red as a joke, the favor often returned to Harry because they’re both idiot Gryffindors who married Slytherins. 

Like everyone isn’t marrying outside of house these days.

“You got me a crystal sewing kit?” Pansy whispers.

“Yep! It’s charmed to keep going when you look away, apparently it has like twenty different stitches and-Pans?! Honey, there’s no reason to  _ cry-” _

Harry smiles at their friends, Pansy  _ always  _ cries on Christmas. It’s as much of a tradition as afternoons with the Weasleys is.

Pansy kisses them both a million times on the cheek as they try to leave. Millie’s no better, but the boys are. One hug from each of them and Blaise is all but kicking them out via floo so he can calm Pansy down enough to fix her makeup. 

A Slytherin simply does not go somewhere with their makeup messed up, ten years after school or not.

Upon arriving at Grimmauld Place, Harry realizes with a big smile that Sirius is already drunk, and Harry is so,  _ so  _ happy to see him.

_ “A’rry?!  _ Merlin’s beard, you’re a husband! And you have your husband! Look at you!” Sirius bumps into them, dragging them both close enough to choke. “My ‘ittle cousin and my ‘ittle godson- _ Remus! Remus I am going to cry!” _

Draco bursts into laughter, squeezes Sirius back before Remus comes to remove him. He tries to scold the other old man, but it comes off awfully fond and far too wholesome to teach any lesson. 

“Sissy is going to kill him,” Remus sighs once they’ve gotten Sirius sat on the couch, presents falling around him like a blanket. 

“No she won’t, she thinks he’s entertaining.” Harry supplies. “But since he’s already out, I suppose he doesn’t need the mulled wine I-”

“You brought me mulled wine?!” 

If Draco keeps laughing he’s going to choke, so Harry punches his arm lightly and thrusts the gift bag in his hand. If Sirius is going to take a nap, they can open presents first so Narcissa is less tempted to kill them later. Drunk Sirius is always better about Sober Sirius when it comes to opening gifts. Sober Sirius doesn’t have half the expressions that Drunk Sirius does.

Harry watches his godfather pull out a small little clay mug, made by Harry himself. Well, made by Harry’s magic, but being the Potter in the group comes with a few puns that are sometimes  _ very  _ difficult not to utilize.

Sirius looks up with tears in his eyes.  _ “Remus.  _ Remus he made me a mug. It says ‘best dog-father’  _ Remus  _ he made it because he’s a  _ Potter. A pottery Potter-”  _ Sirius dissolves into giggles.

Remus takes a long swig from the ‘64 mulled wine that was supposed to last all year but will apparently only be lasting for the evening.

By the time the others come flooding through the floor, all four of them are slightly intoxicated. Narcissa, for all her threats and scariness, joins them immediately, knocking back her own bottle and demanding Lucius dance with her until dinner. 

Winky and Dobby rush to help Kreecher in the kitchen while Molly herds the kids into a playroom. She leaves Rose, as the eldest, in charge and comes back right in time to catch Fleur excitedly gossiping with a slightly buzzed Narcissa. Belle Zabini and the Parkinson's are the last to join the festivities, shoving into Sirius’s dining table that’s been extended three times to fit them all.

It’s separated just like it was at their first family meetings all those years ago. Their first meal after their first Order Meeting. Remus tries desperately to convince a Drunk Sirius that his wardrobe is  _ fine  _ and Sirius ignores him, chatting up Belle and Katherine Parkinson about the latest fashion trends. Narcissa, Lucius, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all debate the latest Ministry gossip that doesn’t involve Harry. Fleur, Bill, Pansy and Blaise are apparently finding more things for Harry and Draco to do in France, like they don’t already have an agenda. Hermione and Draco and debating some medical term that Harry can’t hope to remember until Draco rants it into his head. The twins, Luna, Ginny, and Ron are also in a heated debate about something to do with Quidditch, Harry debates on joining in before Neville, Theo, and Angela catch his attention. Quidditch is cool, but he’s also been researching what makes a ‘dark’ plant for the past few months. He’s been a fool not to ask them.

Down the table, the kiddies are all babbling and eating away. They yell and laugh every now and then, just like everyone else at the table and it’s….it’s so funny to look at. To an outsider, every person at this table would sooner kill each other than sit down at a meal together, but here they are. The room is almost too small for all of them, the table is so full that pretentious purebloods are having to bump elbows and no one says a damn word about it. Several of the adults are getting drunker by the second, Draco and Harry included. Some of them rant about annoyances, some of them (Sirius and Narcissa) cry about when the young adults were just teenagers, some of them plan out an assassination with plants because their partner used the last of their shampoo (Blaise).

It’s crazy, and loud, and chaotic, and messy, and so, so,  _ so  _ perfect. 

Even when Narcissa and Sirius are drunkenly singing Christmas Carols together, Lucius and Remus watching them with equal amounts of stress. Even when Belle Zabini passes out on top of Katherine Parkinson and Pansy snaps pictures of it. Even when Hermione and Mrs. Weasley tuck the kids into bed, everyone but Dominque who’s going home because Fleur wants to ‘do naughty-list worthy things with your son, Molly.’ Even when Ron and Blaise bust out the Wizard’s Chess board and Theo, Millie, and George scream at them like it’s a Quidditch match. Even when Mr.Weasley calls it quits for the night, eagerly escaping behind Fred and Angela. Even when Luna and Ginny come back from the bathroom and someone, probably Draco, calls them out for their matching hickies.

Every single bit of it does something to Harry’s chest. 

Like lighting a fire in the dead of night, like seeing the first peeks of the sun after a long winter, something that fills his lungs and makes it hard to breathe.

Harry finds Draco chatting away with a slightly-drunk Pansy and pulls him in for a rough kiss. 

“Hello to you too.”

“I believe it’s Christmas sex time,” Harry tells him, making a remarkable effort to stay serious even though Pansy is bursting into laughter.

Draco giggles at him, “You’re an eager one.”

“Damn right I am. Where are-Winky? Dobby?”

In one loud ‘crack’ their house elves stand before them, unimpressed but smiling despite having their hands full with their own Christmas gifts. “Winky and Dobby be getting it ready, sirs! We have to go  _ now!” _

Having Dobby rush him out of a room while he’s tripping over ‘goodbyes’ ruins any sexual desires that Harry  _ was  _ having. To be fair, he is a little drunk himself and could probably use the help. Especially when he catches sight of his own living room and nearly falls straight on his ass.

“Holy shit.” Draco whispers from behind him.

Winky and Dobby rush to the front, posing with their arms stretched wide, elf ears perky and flopping when they move, eyes wide and smiles big.

“Ta-da!”

The entire space has been redecorated. They’re not much for clutter in general, except for the office but that’s mostly paper anyways. Walls were kept white purely so they could have whatever color they wanted in whatever room they wanted. It had taken them a while but they did decide on a forest green couch, but only if Harry got a maroon rug to go with it. It’s not the Malfoy Manor, and it’s certainly not the Dursleys house, or the Black Manor, but it’s theirs and it’s  _ home.  _ Every time Draco and Harry come home they can feel tension leaving their shoulders, feel themselves smiling a little softer, feel safe and warm and happy in these walls. 

It’s never felt more stupidly beautiful in this moment.

There are lights glowing from literally no where in the ceiling, fake snow dropping down into nothingness. The tree is bigger than Harry remembers, lights sparkler, with little dancing fairies hanging around. Photos that are on their walls float around in bubbles, he and Draco making a snowman, dancing at their wedding, bar night with their friends, Harry almost stepping on Narcissa’s toes, the day Sirius gave Harry the Black Family Ring so he could propose to Draco. It’s all there, all spinning around them. Mistletoe hangs over the doorway to the kitchen, vines twinkle with bells over the fireplace, the plush white blanket Hermione got them is already thrown over the couch and it’s...Harry can’t begin to describe what is it.

“Come one,” Draco whispers to him, “We have to open presents.” 

“I’ve already opened presents, quite a few of them actually.” 

“But you haven’t opened them from  _ me!” _

A fair point, Harry rushes to the tree without any further protests, letting Draco sort small stacks into fours. Winky gets a lovely new fabric catalogue for her dresses, Dobby a book about boats because he’s been showing an interest in them for a bit now. Draco hands him a little necklace, one that reminds him of the first present Draco ever got him. They were in fourth year, and Draco casually gave him a locket filled with Lily and James, like it wouldn’t break his heart and heal it in the same breath.

Harry can’t even look away to see if Draco likes his emerald bracelet. 

On one side of the tiny locket is a picture of his mother and father, a Christmas tree twinkles in the background, Lily is very clearly yelling at James about  _ something,  _ but there’s a soft twinkle in her eye and it makes it very difficult for Harry to breathe. On the other side is them, their first Christmas in their new home. When it was their turn to host and Fred nearly burned their tree down. They’re in the center, dancing and pointedly ignoring everyone around them. If he looks a little harder he can see Pansy holding a camera in the mirror, Blaise pulling at her hair, Theo and Neville making the task much harder because they’re quite literally hanging off the fellow. Hermione’s pregnant in the picture, he can see Ron feeding her pickles in the left corner while Millie frowns. In the right corner Narcissa is laughing her ass off, hanging over Lucius and Sirius both, Sirius who is half on the couch and half in Remus’s lap. Harry holds it up extra close, just to make sure he’s really seeing Luna and Ginny fighting with the twins in the background.

“Do you like it?” Draco asks. “It took a while to find a picture that has everyone, but, well, I know you lost the last one and I know how important it was to you, so I, you know, I replaced it with everyone in your family. Uh, at least, I think we’re family. We better be, but it’s hard to think when you do the cute little pout thing, oh  _ Merlin  _ you’re doing the pout thing-put the-put the fucking locket down you twit.”

Harry laughs, clutching at the locket and pulling Draco in for a kiss before he can even ask. Soft and sweet, tasting a little like mint and Moscato, filled with some sort of feeling that Harry could honestly melt in. It doesn’t last long, of course.

Draco climbs over the presents, holding Harry down and breathing in deep before smashing their lips together. Something about Christmas Sex rings in the back of his mind, but he’s a little to focused on other things to remember. Harry runs his hands up Draco’s side, fingertips catching on cashmere before clutching at warm muscles. It’s suddenly  _ very  _ hot, and not just because of the fire in the room. 

Harry swaps them easily, as much as he loves Draco on top of him, he likes this a bit more today. Having Draco trapped under him, long blonde hair splayed out on a maroon carpet. He likes it when Draco arches into his touch, shivers if Harry rips his shirt open, moans when Harry kisses that one spot below his jaw.

“C-christmas sex.” Draco mummers, clawing at Harry’s shirt that is a little suffocating at the moment.

He shoves the thing off, coming back down as quickly as he can to kiss Draco’s lips until they bruise. A hand comes up to tug at his hair, one sharp tug has him moaning into Draco's mouth, clumsily reaching for pant buttons that he ends up ripping off anyways because it's _Draco_ and he needs him _right the fuck now._

“Christmas sex…” Harry agrees a few hours later, after three rounds and a long shower. Draco laughs, burrowing deeper into the covers. 

“I told you, it’s different now that we’re married.”

“No it’s not.”

Draco raises a single eyebrow that Harry can’t resist kissing. “It’s not,” Harry explains, “Because us being married this Christmas doesn't change the fact that you make my Christmases perfect every year.”

All he gets is a snort into his shoulder, and then a small kiss, arms that hold him a little closer, and a head that always fits perfectly on his chest. “You’re such a fucking sap. You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

“I am.”

Draco huffs, but he closes his eyes, giving Harry one last kiss right over his heart.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

Harry tightens his grip around Draco’s waist, tangling up their legs, slotting them as close as they can possibly be.

“Merry Christmas.”

It's the best Christmas he's ever had in his life

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to check out my HP but dark and gay series if you liked this, and for all of you who keep up with my fics in general thank you so much, I love you with my whole heart, and i hope you had a wonderful and magical Christmas!


End file.
